


You're Finally Mine

by crowdedmasks (emptymasks)



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Agent Curt Mega, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Dark Owen Carvour, Dom/sub, Dominant Owen Carvour, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt, Enemy Lovers, Height Differences, Height Kink, Kidnapped Agent Curt Mega, Kidnapping, Lovers to enemies to lovers, M/M, Manhandling, Mildly Dubious Consent, Partners to Lovers, Partners to Lovers to Enemies, Praise Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Spies & Secret Agents, Submissive Agent Curt Mega, Top Owen Carvour, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, curt is drugged when kidnapped but not during the sex, curt wants it but hes not in a very stable emotional state so, do not come here expecting fluff, hurt questionable comfort, thats a tag now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptymasks/pseuds/crowdedmasks
Summary: "That secret died the night you left me for dead.""I don't believe you."AU where Curt can't bring himself to kill Owen, and Owen realises he hasn't moved on from his feelings for Curt and so drugs him and kidnaps him. When Curt wakes up they're going to have a nice little chat. (Please be aware of the tags)
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 32
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

"Time to take your final bow, Curt."

Every word bounced and echoed off the walls in the warehouse, dimly lit and reeking of metal and oil. There birds nestled in the rafters, boxes and shelves overturned and scattered, and a draft coiling itself around their ankles no matter where they stood. The place was falling apart.

Hazy sunlight drifted in through one of the many holes in the ceiling, beaming straight down onto Owen. It was cruel how he was framed. He was stood half-way up the staircase, looking down upon Curt, which was completely unnecessary as he was already a fair few inches taller than him. The makeshift spotlight made the air look fuzzy and smokey and Curt could see the many dust particles in the air as they twirled around Owen, as if they were afraid to touch him. As if they were just as afraid as Curt was of touching him. As if one brush against Owen's skin would make him forget he was here to stop Owen, kill him if it came to it, and go weak at the knees in a way he hadn't done in four long years and grab on and not let go and Owen's hands would pet his hair and tell him how good he was for him and it would be like nothing had ever ripped him away.

But that wasn't Owen. It couldn't be. It was just a monster wearing his face, speaking with his voice. All Curt saw in those eyes was angry shifting into an almost blank expression. How could it be Owen if he hated Curt that much? But then again, what could he expect. He'd seen Owen stop moving and if he hadn't been so fucking stupidly cocky and arrogant and wanting to impress Owen as always and have a little fun he would have set the timer for more than three minutes and had time to go back for Owen's body, he would have had time to properly check if Owen was really dead.

It was all his fault. He'd ran out of there, thinking at least one of them should make it out. He'd not set the timer for six minutes per the original plan. He'd left the banana peel on the floor.

He'd left Owen for dead.

'I spent almost as much time hating you as you did' Owen's words from earlier rang in his ears.

Four long years of grieving, and where had it gotten him? He hadn't moved on in the slightest. He could almost imagine Owen dropping his gun and pressing Curt backwards into the railing and kissing him, then perhaps Curt could believe this was all a dream. He could cope with that more than Owen being back from the grave, only to have turned into a man hellbent on revenge with the highest kill count in the world wanting to tear apart the world's governments at its roots.

Yes. That's what he had to remember. Whether any of the old Owen was in there or not, Curt had to stay focused on what he was about to do. This might be a mission he was choosing to see through on his own, with no Cynthia swearing in his ear, but this was the most important mission he'd ever been on.

"My team is destroying your island facility as we speak," The 'team' being just Tatiana and Barb, but Curt had complete confidence they could handle it. He let himself slip into that more confident, smug tone of voice. "Your surveillance network is fried. There'll be no encore tonight... for _you_."

Owen moved, leaning forwards and Curt should be thinking more about Owen punching him than kissing him. But then he settled one step lower, twisting so he was fully facing Curt.

"Perhaps you've destroyed _that_ island facility, but what of the others?" He said it so matter-of-fact, so calmly, that it took Curt a moment to fully process what he'd said.

"There's more?" Perhaps he'd been as stupid as Owen was saying he was to think it would be that easy, but how could he possibly have expected any of this?

"How does it feel to know that you'll never catch up with us?" Owen's lips twisted into a smirk and he let out a breath of a chuckle.

Curt felt like he was going to throw up. His mind was racing as he realised he'd been lowering his gun. "It's not to late to fix this... Uh," Think, Curt. "If you agree to give up Chimera, I'm sure the agency can pull some strings and-"

"You still don't see, do you Curt!" Owen's hands flew up in the air as he yelled, pinching the bridge of his nose, a familiar gesture that in another time Curt had found cute. "There won't be any agency to go back to once the system is global! I'm going to single handedly dismantle everything you've ever believed in!"

Curt watched as Owen's voice raised and wavered, his breath shaking, shoulders rising, as he finished shouting. He thought he could see Owen's hand trembling. He knew his own were, now both resting at his sides.

Maybe there was some old Owen in there. Maybe he could still be convinced. Maybe he could have Owen back...

"We used to share those beliefs. Think of the missions we served. The lives we saved! The impact we had on this world. Together... Two of the greatest spies to ever live," Curt could feel his voice starting to break. "You consider that, and you look me in the eyes, and you tell me that you don't believe we're making a difference!"

Owen just shook his head. "The future is happening, Curt, and it's not going to wait for you," His gun moved in tandem with his voice, pointing at Curt to emphasise his words. "What use will one man be, and a box in a room can his job in seconds?" Owen spat.

"Sounds boring," The same words he'd said again and again, but never when his voice sounded so wet.

Owen almost laughed at the familiar phrase. "You're a caveman, and I've invented fire."

"I'll stop you."

"You'll do your best."

"'Once a spy, always a spy', isn't that what we used to say? What the agencies shoved down our throats. I remember..." Curt couldn't look at Owen. He could feel the tears starting to make their way down his face and heard the click cocking of the gun. He thought of him and Owen laughing in quiet hotel rooms after missions, talking as if the moments could shatter. The long phone calls when Owen was stuck in London for too long ( _there's no 'too long' when it comes to serving queen and country, my dear_ ). How Owen would stretch out behind him. How the height difference meant when things got too much and he let his walls down he could tuck his head under Owen's chin.

"A new world awaits us, Curt. A world without agencies, a world without spies, a world without secrets."

"Some secrets aren't yours to share," He took a breath and looked up at Owen, raising his head and stepping out of where he'd slumped against the wall. "What about our secret?" He watched Owen twitch and glance away for a second. "The time we shared," Curt continued. "The feelings we had..." He ascended the stairs and as he got closer Owen's gun moved lower and lower until it was almost pressed against Curt's chest. "...for each other. Are you ready to share that with the world?"

How could he possibly kill him after all of that?

Owen faltered. It was just a moment, just a brief moment. But in that moment a crack appeared on the mask and a tiny sliver of something peaked through.

"That secret died the night you left me for dead."

Curt took another step, the gun pressed against his chest now.

"I don't believe you."

Their eyes were locked. Curt felt like Owen was trying to peer into his soul, as he thought everything was a trap. But he knew, hell everyone knew, Curt hadn't moved on at all. That Owen's 'death' had left him completely heartbroken and devastated, left him a shell of a man. He watched as Owen seemed to realise, fully realise that and what it meant for the first time without laughing at him.

And then Owen's arm was moving back and he holstered his gun.

Curt would definitely not be surprised if he was dreaming now. Was Owen going to give up Chimera? Was he going to invite Curt to shoot him? Was he going to just try and run...?

That... wouldn't be a bad idea on his part seeing as he just worked out Curt didn't have it in him to kill him.

"I'll never stop chasing you," Curt said. Eyes flicking between Owen at the door at the top of the staircase. What was that? Was he inviting Owen to leave?

"No..." Owen's voice was a low murmur and Curt tried not to focus on it. His finger itching against his gun. He focused on memorising Owen's face, not that he'd forgotten it, but seeing it again so close he mapped out each and every contour, trying to latch onto something, anything.

He'd have to figure something out. Seeing as though Owen was this far ahead it would be easily believable if he told Cynthia he hadn't managed to catch up to Owen... That was even if he could even get into Cynthia's office. He'd gone rogue. He didn't work for anyone anymore. Maybe he could just work like this from now on, be self-employed of sorts, tracking down Owen and the other members of Chimera, perhaps he could convince Tatiana to continue helping him, though that wasn't fair to her, well then perhaps-

Curt could feel the anxiety that had been rising in his head sluggishly stop. He hadn't realised he's started zoning out and when his eye's refocused he saw one of Owen's hands was outstretched, clenched in a fist and pointed at his neck... Well, if he wanted to punch him why didn't he just... Why didn't he just... do it...?

There was a clattering sound and Curt was vaguely aware that was the sound of his own gun falling to the floor, but he was more focused on catching himself as he stumbled backwards, hitting the railing and starting to slide down. As Owen walked out of the beam of light, it caught and glinted off the ring on his fist... When had he heard something about a ring...?

He rifled through what he could remember about all the gadgets Barb had shown him over the years.

_Squeeze the ring right here and out comes a poison dart._

Oh. Shit.

The last thing he saw before his vision went completely black was Owen getting closer and closer, close enough Curt could smell him and that just seemed to make him dizzier.

He thought he heard a voice say "Easy, love, I've got you," As he fell into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He remembered it now, Owen knocking him out. He wasn't sure where he expected to wake up, but he certainly didn't expect it to be so... warm. He excerpt to be in some deep, dark facility, not... wherever this was.
> 
> The shuffling noise stopped.

Warmth.

No wind.

He was inside somewhere.

A shuffling noise.

He wasn't alone.

He focused on keeping even breaths.

Curt couldn't stop those instincts even if he tried. From a lifetime of missions and kidnappings, you got used to waking up without opening your eyes straight away, trying to make it seem as if you were still unconscious as you worked out everything you can about where you were.

It got annoying to wake up with those instincts kicking in every morning. (A therapist would probably make something of that, wouldn't they? That's probably not good is it? _Being taken hostage enough times that we instinctual wake up having to check we're still where we were last time we were conscious? I think they call that trauma, love._ )

One thing that did make it more difficult to remain looking calm and peacefully asleep, was waking up, sat down, with your hands tied behind the chair you're on and some sort of blindfold over your eyes.

Memories from the previous day crawled back to him. The peace gala, going rogue, tracking down The Deadliest Man Alive and... Owen... That hadn't all been a dream right? He remembered splitting up with Tatiana and chasing down Owen until they ended up in a warehouse and then... And then they'd talked and Curt thought he could get through and they'd both lowered their guns hadn't they?

But that hadn't left Owen unarmed.

He remembered it now, Owen knocking him out. He wasn't sure where he expected to wake up, but he certainly didn't expect it to be so... warm. He excerpt to be in some deep, dark facility, not... wherever this was.

The shuffling noise stopped.

"You've improved on that, pretending to be unconscious. Actually took me a minute there until I noticed," Owen's voice almost made him jump.

"Where are we?" Curt ground out.

"Ah, yes, of course let me..." Owen trailed off and Curt felt him come up behind him and then the cloth from Curt's eyes and Curt slowly eased his eyes open, squinting at the daylight. "What do you think? Quite lovely, isn't it?"

They were in a hotel. A... A really nice hotel. The room was quite spacious, covered in pale yellows and muted oranges. This was definitely the comfiest chair he'd ever been tied to, probably the only one with any cushioning on it. Owen had his weapons laid out on a table near him, his gun was in pieces and so Curt assumed Owen had been cleaning it. Opposite the table was a large bed. With a pull of a tangled mass of feelings, Curt realised it was the only bed in the room.

"There's only one bed," Curt pointed out. Feeling stupid, but thinking he could at least try to piss Owen off by making out he hated the room. Owen knew he didn't though, of course.

"That's not going to be a problem is it?"

"What- Why- Why wouldn't it be a problem?!" Owen was smirking and what the fuck was he flirting? Last night he was trying to take revenge and kill Curt and now what? He thought he'd be up for a quick fuck?

"Oh, Curt, do keep your voice down. I didn't think I was going to have to gag you, but then again," Owen circled around him. "You did used to rather like that sometimes."

Curt thrashed against his bond. Damn him. _Damn him._ He wasn't allowed to do this! He wasn't allowed to come back and hate him one second and then... Well, Owen didn't love him anymore, surely, but _flirt_... This had to be a trick. Perhaps this was a form of torture Owen had been specifically thinking of for him, to get Curt to a point where he was begging for Owen's touch just so Owen could laugh in his face.

"That's not going to work on me. I'm not going to swoon over some cheap words. You don't mean any of it."

Owen had the audacity to look hurt. "Why wouldn't I mean it? What do I really gain, Curt, from teasing you?"

"You get to humiliate me. Why wouldn't you want to do that? You wanted to kill me a second ago?"

They stared each other down until Owen sighed and sat on the bed. "I was so sure of what I wanted. I did want to kill you. I've dreamed about it, I won't lie. And since I'm not lying... I can't count the number of times I've imagined having you back as well. But we can't go back, Curt. And I don't want to. I enjoy this life I've made, the freedom, the power. I want to keep that. And I wanted to dispose of you, the one last thing that made me feel something. And then you stand in front of me for five minutes and..." Owen raked a hand through his hair. "And I couldn't bloody do it, could I? I couldn't kill you... So I've been doing some thinking, and the conclusion I've come to is that I don't want you any less than I did before. And the thing is, it could work. It could so easily work, Curt."

"What could?" Curt was not going to let his voice betray him. His mind was starting to run. 'I don't want you any less than I did before'...

It had to be a trick, it had to be. Because if it wasn't and Owen really did still want him after everything Curt did, after Curt left him to die... Curt wasn't sure he could live with that. He didn't deserve it. Despite every horrible, evil thing Owen had now done, Curt didn't deserve to be forgiven for what he did. If he hadn't left him Owen wouldn't have done those terrible things, his victims and marks would still be alive, hundreds of people would still be alive. Owen would have pulled through and they'd both have continued you being happy, being together. Or Curt wouldn't have gotten him out in time to be clear of the explosion and they'd have both died. Curt wouldn't have minded dying, if he'd have been side by side with Owen.

He'd been losing himself in his guilty thoughts again and when his eyes started to swim back into focus Owen was a lot closer than he was before.

"What are you thinking about, Curt?"

"None of your business."

"I'm being honest with you. Can't you be honest with me?" Owen's voice was slick and seductive. "I'm obviously not going to kill you over anything you say. And I would say if you don't want me too then you're free to go, but we both know you do, so...

If he said any of what he was thinking he would be giving so much away. Owen could use it to get under his skin and into his head and convince him to do anything.

Owen came up close and leaned over him, one hand reaching back, toying with the ropes on Curt's wrists. "You've gone rogue, Curt. There's no one who wants to help you anymore. Dear Cynthia isn't worried about you, she's probably glad you're no longer a pain in her arse. And your pretty, clever Russian friend, she's going back to her family. Can you really make it out there on your own? You were alone for four years and look what happened to you." Owen's voice was hot in his ear. "You don't have to be alone ever again, Curt."

"Don't deserve it..." It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He said it so quietly he wasn't sure if Owen heard and he prayed that he didn't.

"What was that?"

"Don't, Owen."

"Don't what?"

Curt could feel himself starting to shake and fuck it he may as well just say everything if he was going to start crying in front of Owen. May as well just humiliate himself all the way.

"I don't deserve it, okay. Happy? I don't deserve to be wanted. Least of all by you." Curt spat the words out, anger coming out of nowhere.

"Oh... Curt..."

"Don't. Don't you dare speak like that, like you care. Because you can't, you shouldn't."

"And if I did anyway? Don't try and say 'I don't believe you' again, because you said that you didn't believe I didn't care about you, but now faced with the reality of it, you can't handle it. How much guilt formed in those four years? Enough to convince you that facial hair suited you."

"Oh not you too," Owen let out a small chuckle and Curt found his lips wanting to turn upwards and Owen smirked.

"See, I can get you out of that headspace. Who else is going to do that for you? Who else can? Honestly, you really didn't plan anything out did you?"

"I didn't really have any time to."

"Chase me down to the ends up the Earth? Was that all you were thinking of? Well, now you have me Curt."

"Really? It sort of feels like the other way around."

Owen blinked. And then he slid forwards, almost into Curt's lap, and reached around to untie the ropes binding Curt's hands.

What was he waiting for? This was it, either make a run for the door or turn the tables and get Owen tied up and call Cynthia... Or... someone... Did he really have no one left to call?

Owen stepped back as Curt stood up. He moved his arms to gain some feeling back in them and realised at some point while he'd been unconscious, Owen had removed his jacket.

Curt took a step forward, and then another. Owen let him back him up until his knees hit the bed and then he just stood there, feet fixed on the floor, eyes daring Curt to do something.

Oh he was going to do something all right. He was not going to let Owen keep getting to him, even when it was true- Even _if_ it was true. Curt had contacts, right? He could call someone and have Owen delivered to them and then Owen could give up what he knew... Who was he kidding Owen wasn't going to do that.

Owen, who stood there, waiting. Waiting and waiting and Curt just looked at him trying to decide, trying to think, and Owen eventually opened his mouth to say something and Curt took a fistful of Owen's shirt and pulled him into him.

Curt hadn't had many kisses in the past four year. Given how hard and slow he grieved for Owen perhaps some would be surprised he'd had any at all. But he'd tried. He'd tried getting drunk, catching some young man watching him and making out with him in side-alleys and back-alleys near the bar or club he'd beached himself in. They all ended the same. Things would start to move on from kissing and Curt would just feel overwhelmed by how the other man was the wrong height and had the wrong eye colour and wrong accent and he'd stumble out some apology and leave.

Not a single one of them ever had any effect on him other than causing him to miss Owen even more and feel guilty for kissing someone that wasn't him.

Not a single one of them had made his blood burn.

So it was almost a foreign feeling when as soon as he pulled Owen's mouth onto his own he was hit by a rush of heat flooding his veins. He was torn between stopping and slowing down and ripping both their clothes off before Owen changed his mind once he realised how broken Curt was.

And Curt could have sobbed when he realised Owen was kissing him back.

He didn't know how long they stood there like that, before there was a hand closing around his wrist, the one attached to his fist that was still balled up in Owen's shirt. Owen's hand rubbed at his skin and ended up having to pry at his fingers to get Curt to let go.

Curt pulled back. "Yeah, right, of course," Everything was shaking. "Knew this was too good to be true."

"Curt, for god's sake, would you shut that monkey brain up for one second," And Owen hands where on him and he was being turned and led backwards and pushed and pressed and Curt let Owen manhandle him onto the bed, their lips joining the second Curt's back hit the soft mattress.

"Owen," Curt gasped out when he could get a breath."

"You want something, love?" Owen's voice sounded a little wrecked and his hands where on either side of Curt's face and they were rubbing at the skin there and Curt realised of fuck he'd actually been sobbing.

"I... Owen, I don't..."

"Do you want me to stop?"

He should. He should want him to stop. If they did this, then what? Once Curt had him again he wasn't going to want to let Owen go and he couldn't just chase after forever. Everything Owen was doing went again everything Curt believed in.

"Curt," Owen was nibbling at the skin under his ear. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," It was almost a whisper but it sent blood rushing to his ears and it seemed to break down whatever wall was holding Owen back because suddenly there were both moving like... Well like they'd been apart for years.

Curt couldn't even keep up with what item of clothing Owen was removing from each of them. His mind seemed to be wanting to drift off somewhere calm and pleasant, where he could just lay back and let Owen take care of everything.

When Owen's kissed him again they were both stripped of all their clothing and Curt could feel Owen's cock digging into his thigh and instinctively bucked his hips making Owen moan.

"Fuck," Owen dragged the word out and moved off the bed to retrieve something from his table of weapons. Curt should have felt worried about that. He knew that. But he just... felt himself trusting Owen to the point of not even thinking about it too much.

Once Owen climbed back on the bed and started pushing Curt's legs apart, Curt knew what the small bottle contained.

"You were just carrying that around with all your supplies, huh?" He quipped and Owen grinned down at him.

"As nice as the thought of having his with me so I could have taken you at any time is," Curt hated how his body throbbed at the idea of that. "No, I wasn't. While you were... getting some beauty sleep, I went and did a little shopping." Owen's hands where moving, slick with oil and brushing against Curt's hole.

"I think you're getting an ego bigger than mine if you were that confident we'd end up in this position."

"Oh, Curt," Owen said and Curt wasn't sure if it was in response to what he'd just said of in response to what Owen was doing because one of Owen's fingers was now inside of him, thrusting in and out. "I'm pretty sure that's impossible, darling."

It wasn't impossible at all, Curt thought, given how much he hated himself now.

Oh.

Well that wasn't the best thing to be thinking while trying to have sex.

But the seeds of that line of thinking had been planted while Curt had been tied up in that chair and he'd just been trying to distract himself with and now they were all starting to rush back and he was going to fuck this up and Owen wasn't going to want him and he shouldn't even want Owen to want him and he certainly shouldn't want Owen and-

"Hey," Owen was looking down at him. "Where are you going, love?"

Curt didn't know how to answer that. But Owen knew, of course he knew. It wasn't as if Curt hadn't had his insecurities before everything that had happened (though granted they'd been a lot less of them) and Owen had seen them affect him and he'd helped. Whether that he through regular comfort or... something a little more.

"Right, come here," Owen pulled his fingers out of Curt and began moving them. _Fingers_ because somehow Curt had been dropping so much that he hadn't realised Owen moving from one to two to three.

Owen settled himself against the headboard and pulled Curt into his lap. Curt could feel Owen's cock sliding against his ass, hard and waiting.

"Do you want to stop?" Owen asked even as Curt was now rocking against him and Owen was tightening his fingers around Curt's hips.

Curt buried his head in Owen's neck and shook his head.

It was as much of a response as he was going to get out of Curt, who wasn't even sure he could speak right now. So Owen slowly moved Curt over and down onto his cock, not pushing into him yet, just pressing against him, and when Curt only relaxed into him, Owen started to let Curt drop onto him.

Curt couldn't help the little noises that left him. He was whimpering and moaning and sobbing, his breath hitching, as Owen worked his way inside of him. One of Owen's hands was running up and down Curt's back. "You're doing so well, love. Taking all of me so well." And Curt's hips jerked, pushing Owen's cock in that little bit deeper.

"Do you need a second too...?" Owen sounded like he was straining to keep his voice steady and Curt probably did need a second to adjust but he needed Owen to fuck him and he figured Owen needed that too so he just shook his head. Realising that wasn't going to be enough of an answer, he found some energy from somewhere and raised himself up on Owen's cock, before lowering himself back down.

"Fuck, Curt," He felt Owen watch as he started to move more and more, the more he moved the more he needed to keep moving.

He was torn between leaning backwards and trying to find that perfect angle and leaning forwards so that as much of him was touching Owen as possible. He'd had less than forty-two hours to deal with the fact that Owen was alive and every thrust made it harder and harder to deny it was really real.

"Owen..." Curt was practically clutching at Owen's face now. Grabbing him and pulling him closer and closer and closer and closer and closer and closer-

"Shh," Owen's voice weaved its way through Curt's mounting distress. How could his voice be so soft whilst he was gripping Curt's hips hard enough to bruise, lifting and pulling Curt as he faltered, pounding into him? "I'm here." One of his hands moved up stroking Curt's hair just like he used to, before moving down and gripping the back of Curt's neck, suddenly squeezing.

Curt's eyes flew open at the sudden pressure. He wasn't sure if he should feel ashamed at feeling his cock twitch.

"I'm here, love," And Owen was leaning into Curt's hands, pushing their foreheads together. "We're both here, and that's how it's staying."

"You're-" Curt tried to think and analyse what that meant, even as his brain became clouded with pleasure, his words turning into moans. "What?"

Owen chuckled and the sound vibrated through Curt's ribs. "Eloquent as ever, my dear."

"You're... Are you saying that you're coming back?" Curt tried to slow the pace down so he could get his words out.

"Oh, no, not in a million years, not after everything, no what I'm saying is you're not going back."

Fuck.

Owen's voice went low and growled in his ear and Curt's hands shifted to Owen's shoulders, as if pushing down on them could move him at all.

"Owen-"

"You've proved your point, Curt. I haven't moved on either. So why should we force each other to?"

"Owen, please-"

"You're skilled, Curt. Think of what we could accomplish together."

"Owen, I can't-"

Curt cried out as Owen grabbed his hips and pulled him down hard. "I didn't say I was asking, dear boy."

"I'll never help Chimera."

"Oh, there's plenty of other things in the works. But I think you can come around to the idea of helping me with anything."

He really was as stupid as people thought he was, wasn't he? Owen had known since the moment he fired that poison dart he was going to keep Curt, hadn't he? _You're reflexes seem to get a little worse when we spar, haven't you noticed?_

"Think about it, Curt. The two of us together again. Us against the world," Owen's softened his voice into a lullaby and Curt could feel himself falling.

If he got away, what then? He'd gone rogue so the agency wasn't going to take him back. Become a freelancer? A decent option, but Curt knew himself well. There was no way he was going to just go about his life when he knew Owen was still out there. He knew he'd spend every minute of every day chasing Owen down... Is it that crazy to think about how much easier it would be if he was already by Owen's side?

But he could use that to his advantage! He could still be with Owen and bring down Chimera... somehow... right...? All he would have to do is manipulate Owen and use him... use him and then...

And then lose Owen all over again.

Either he's be executed, or shipped off back to MI6 where they'd try and try to work out some deal, but this knew Owen didn't seem like he'd ever give them any information unless it somehow worked out in his favour, or Curt would end up having to pull the trigger himself.

A lifetime of imprisonment where Curt would never see him again... or death.

Four year, four fucking years of grieving and crying and picking up what was left of his heart and dealing with all the fucking guilt. He couldn't help it, he couldn't help thinking to everything, everything that had been his fault. He'd never even gone back after the explosion to see if there was anything left of... Oh god, he might be sick.

Everything that had happened had been his fault. Perhaps he owed it to Owen to give himself over. Perhaps he deserved it.

It had seemed like he'd been doing well. Despite him still constantly thinking of Owen, he had been getting better, hadn't he? This mission had made him feel alive again, working with Tatiana, hunting down the Deadliest Man Alive...

But that might have been why. Some part of Curt's brain deep down knew there was something familiar. He felt so stupid. It was just a mask and a voice changer. He knew the technology, they'd 'borrowed it' (Cynthia's words) from IMF a few years back. The body was still the same, how could Curt have not seen it? Perhaps he hadn't wanted to. But perhaps that's the only reason the mission felt good, why he felt alive again... because part of him recognised Owen. Even if not fully realising it was Owen, the body or the mannerisms or... or something. Some part of his brain clocked on that something was familiar there, something was thrilling there... something was comforting there.

"Curt..." Owen's voice pulled him out of his head-space and Curt realised his head had fallen into Owen's neck. He pulled his head up and watched how Owen's expression changed and those beautiful eyes went soft again. "Curt, you're crying."

He was? He reached up to touch his face, but Owen's hands beat him too it, stroking and wiping at his cheeks.

"I can't come with you," Curt's voice shook and even he could hear how uncertain he sounded.

"You mean you shouldn't, or you think you shouldn't. But there's no one to judge you here, love. There's no agencies telling you what to do. Doesn't that feel nice? Being able to make decisions for yourself. Being able to say no to missions you think are too risky or you shouldn't be meddling in, and being able to say yes to missions you'd never even get to hear about because 'now wouldn't be the best time to get involved in that' or 'we don't want to strain our relations with them' or someone else or any of their corrupt little excuses to simply serve themselves," Owen cradled Curt's face. "We'll be so much better than them."

"Don't..." Curt hadn't a clue what he would retort with. Owen was just... too good at convincing him. If he didn't know Owen better he would say this was all lies and he was just using him, but then Owen's eyes would soften like that and he saw the old Owen peeking through and no matter what he had become now Curt still loved him. He couldn't stop loving him if he tried.

"Don't what? I'm not forcing you into anything you don't want to do," Owen lent forwards, and further forwards, dragging his hands under Curt's thighs and pushing up on his knees. Slowly and stealthily slinking up onto his knees and pushing Curt down into the bed. _I could have you like this, forever you know? You're so beautiful, love._

"Don't make me believe you."

That seemed to make Owen freeze for a second. He looked almost pained.

"This isn't about what you believe, Curt, it's about what is fact. Because you know, just as I know, that I'm right. And that's why you'll say yes."

Owen moved then, ever so slightly, and Curt was suddenly very aware again that Owen's cock was still inside him and he instinctively clenched around him, causing Owen to let out a gasp of a moan, his hands sliding back to Curt's hips as he started fucking him again. He slowly built them back up to the speed they'd been at before, holding onto Curt just as hard, but Curt got the slight feeling Owen was trying to be careful with him. As if he knew how close was to being convinced and he needed not to push him too hard.

That thought coming through his mind while Owen was pushing into him fairly hard caused Curt to smile the tiniest bit at the stupid almost-joke. What the fuck was going on with his brain?

"Owen..." Curt moaned out without thinking and it seemed to cause Owen to start fucking him harder. Curt's brain was fogging up again and as he looked up at Owen he couldn't help but feel like Owen was trying to keep his composure and despite this whole situation all he could think about was making Owen lose that composure. "Owen, please..." He moaned, arching his back ever so slightly and teasing Owen in a way that made him feel four years younger.

Owen stared down at him, mouth agape. He moved almost sluggishly at first as if it took a moment to remember how they did this, but then he was crowding in on Curt, taking both of his hands and pinning them above his head. _You do enjoy me pinning you down don't you? I wonder what it is about it. It's so easy to do, what with you being smaller than me and all... Oh, now, is that what it is, my dear?_ Curt's hips jerked up.

"Some things never change, do they Curt?" Owen's lips where right against his ear and oh god he was suddenly starting to get close. "You're still so beautiful like this, so beautiful when you're giving yourself over to me."

It was like Owen was rooting around in Curt's head, finding exactly what Curt wanted him to say. But of course, the reason he knew is because he hadn't forgotten.

"And you still like claiming me?" Curt couldn't help but talk back.

"Oh, Curtis," Owen practically purred and clearly had achieved the impossible by making Curt like the sound of his full name. "I loved claiming you."

"Loved?" It was out of Curt's mouth before he could help it and fuck was he going to drop again, he couldn't keep ruining the mood like this and fuck 'ruining the mood' shouldn't be in a top ten list of things he should be most worried about right now.

"Curt..." Owen's tone was warning him. But fuck it, if after all of this it turned out Owen didn't then he just wanted to know now and get it over with and crawl back on his knees to the Secret Service and- "Being stupid doesn't suit you, you know."

What? Curt's heart was pounding and he knew what he thought that meant but... "Pretty sure you just called me stupid at least five times back there."

Owen laughed and Curt had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

"Well, good thing you're my idiot then."

"You sure about that?"

"Oh, darling," Owen reached down and finally, finally touched Curt's cock and Curt felt like he was going to weep again. "I feel fairly confident about that, yes."

Fuck he was close, he was so close. He was faintly aware he was wrapping his legs around Owen, trying to pull him in even closer, even deeper.

"Fuck, Owen, please, please," Everything they used to do was rushing to Curt's mind all at once. He knew what he wanted Owen to say, what he needed Owen to say.

"You're close?"

Curt frantically nodded his head, his hair falling out of its styling and matting against his forehead.

"Then..." _Do you know what you're going to be, Curt?_ "Are you going to be a good boy and come for me?"

That was it. That was all it took. Curt threw his head back and moaned something that could have been Owen's name. Owen grabbed his hips even harder and it didn't take long before he was burying his face in Curt's neck and coming inside him.

Owen had basically collapsed on top of Curt as the aftershocks worked their way through his body. He glanced down to see Owen's mop of hair on his chest, moving up and down as Curt breathed.

It was wrong.

It was so fucking wrong.

"Owen?" Curt's voice was quiet but he felt like it cut through the air in the room. He waited for Owen to lift his head. He wanted to, no, he needed to see his face as he said it. "I love you. I never stopped loving you."

Owen looked like he didn't know what to do with his face; Whether to look cold and blank, whether to look relieved or happy, or whether to look almost, almost sad.

"If you say 'I know' I will punch you and leave you here," Curt deadpanned and Owen laughed again, a smile breaking out for a moment.

"Was there an implication then, that if I said something else you wouldn't leave me here?"

Curt averted his eyes and breathed heavily out through his nose.

"Just say it, Curt. Say it and I'll it."

If he wasn't already going to hell for things he'd done in life, he sure was now.

_If you went to hell they'd have to open the gates and let me follow you. We're partners._

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Don't push your luck, babe." The pet name was out of his mouth before he could stop it, parts of him were already reverting to how he was before Owen's demise. He would have kicked himself, if not for the flustered way Owen looked for a second.

"You're staying."

"I'm not helping you."

"Oh, of course you won't," Owen sounded so annoying smug. "We'll work on that."

He grabbed one of Curt's wrists, pulling to his lips and kissing the skin reddened by the ropes from earlier.

"I still love you too."

Do you forgive me too? Curt fought against the urge to ask it. He didn't think he'd be okay with either answer. He almost hoped for a 'no'. He could live with that, he could understand that. If Owen forgave him for leaving him for dead Curt thought he'd just hate himself more.

"Sleep, love. I've got so many things planned for us."

Owen could kill him in his sleep. Everything could still be a trick. And yet Curt was believing it, hell he'd completely lost himself in it. It wasn't okay, it shouldn't be okay. He hated what Owen was doing, but whatever part of him was still connected to Owen said that none of it mattered. All that mattered was Owen was alive and here and he wanted him.

And wasn't that what Curt had been craving more than anything? To belong somewhere again.

He dreaded to know what Owen had planned... but he couldn't describe the feeling of knowing he would wake up next to him, for the first time in over four long years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel like this didn't go as dark as I originally thought it might, but it's still definitely not a healthy relationship. I might write more for this AU, I might not. I don't know. I want to, but ultimately it's down to whether I can think of any other ideas. I do have other Spies Are Forever, WIPs, just not for this AU, so that might interest some of you.
> 
> And thank you to those that commented on the last chapter! I haven't had comments on a fics in ages because I've been writing for smaller fandoms and I'd kinda forgotten what it was like. Your comments really helped me get this written.

**Author's Note:**

> So I just re-watched Spies Are Forever for the first time and whilst I do also have ideas for nice, fluffy fics that I want to write, for some reason this was the first idea I thought of. I will never write non-con and I've always thought I also wouldn't write dub-con (no hate towards people who do write that I'm just not normally comfortable writing or reading it) and whilst the sex in this is consensual, this is not a healthy relationship and Owen is kinda fucked up in this because his feelings for Curt are all twisted. Basically in this AU I could see him just wanting to keep Curt almost like a pet, because while he still loves him, he doesn't want to have to kill him and he knows Curt still wants to stop his plans so either he just keeps Curt sort of locked away or he slowly works on conniving (manipulating) Curt into joining him.
> 
> Basically I never thought I'd write dub-con or anything remotely dark and I don't know where this came from but uh here you go. 
> 
> I was also very tempted to call this 'love me more than you possibly can' or 'you'll never meet another me', both are lyrics from The Stalker Tango by Autoheart which got recommended to me on Spotify after listening to The Torture Tango too many times and honestly I think the song kind of suits Curt and Owen.


End file.
